


You love me

by fireandhoney



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Confessions, First touches, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, these two idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:35:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28175526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireandhoney/pseuds/fireandhoney
Summary: "You love me."Sherlock frowned, because it was obvious, wasn’t it?
Relationships: Johnlock, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	You love me

“You love me.”

Sherlock froze, his hand on the wheel of the microscope he was currently using. He’d been analyzing different states of decomposition of leaves, his eye stuck to the lens all morning, scribbling observations in his notebook. He assumed John had left for work, but to be quite honest, he didn’t actually pay much attention to anything else. Turns out he’d assumed wrong. Apparently, John had stayed home, and had done… something, until he’d decided to interrupt Sherlock’s diligent experiment with an acute, but shocking observation. 

“I know you heard me.”

Well, seems his tensed up body betrayed him. There was no avoiding this one, then. Sherlock sighed, quietly turning off the microscope and writing down his final notes. He closed his notebook, put down his pen and finally looked up. John was leaning against the wall at the edge of the kitchen, his arms crossed over his chest. Ah, his military courage, that’s what prompted this sudden conversation. 

“Why now?”

John raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. Perhaps also by the lack of resistance, the lack of arguing. If John figured it out on his own, Sherlock wasn’t going to lie about it. 

“So, it’s… Why didn’t you say anything?”

Sherlock frowned, because it was obvious, wasn’t it?

“What do you mean?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What good could that have done?” Sherlock’s tone was serious, and John stood up straighter, like he’d been hit. 

“What good..? Sherlock, you _ love _ me and you didn’t think about telling me?”

Sherlock wasn’t sure if it was meant to be accusatory, or if the disbelief made it sound like it, but it caused him to answer more sharply than he would have liked. 

“Of course I  _ thought _ of telling you, John.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Think about it for a minute, John.”

They stared at each other silently, both stuck between annoyance, confusion and resignation. John leaned his head sideways, understanding sketching his features. 

“Oh, Sherlock… You know me better than that.”

“Do I?”   
“Yes, yes you do. You always know everything, you can’t pretend you didn’t-”   
Sherlock interrupted him, turning around as he talked to set up the kettle as an excuse to look away.    
“I know, John. I know. You are not a man of subtlety. But then again, neither am I, and you never were… receptive. So I took the decision-”   
“You decided to never mention it.” John finished for him, his voice losing its bite.

“I did.”

“But…”   
“No. Don’t do that.” Sherlock shook his head, taking two cups out of the cupboard and placing them on the counter. “What would have happened, if I had said something?” Sherlock turned, facing John again. “How would that have gone? Look at what’s happening now.” He gestured between them, and the space that separated the two. “Unnecessary turmoil.”

John went to say something, but he stopped and instead, took a deep breath. Sherlock continued.    
“You weren’t, you’ve never been in a place mentally to deal with that, and truly, it isn’t important. I’ve spent my whole life pretending I didn’t have emotions and I am fine continuing to do so. Honestly, John, it’s all fine. We never needed to address it and we still don’t.” He placed the tea bags in the cups and poured water over them. As he finished talking, he picked up one of the cups and extended his arm, handing it to John. 

He kept his eyes on the steaming tea for as long as he could, but as nothing was happening, his gaze slipped up, meeting John’s. Huge mistake. Because John’s eyes didn’t portray irritation or anger, but sadness. And hurt. And it took Sherlock by surprise, so much so that the handle of the cup slipped from his fingers and the hot drink dropped to the ground. As if in slow motion, the ceramic shattered and the tea splashed around. Instantly, Sherlock turned around to grab a towel. “I, oh, I’m sorry, it just…” 

“Sherlock…” John’s voice was weak, shaky. 

“What a mess, I’m sorry, I’ll clean it up.” Sherlock ignored him, kneeling down to start weeping the liquid off the floor. 

“Sherlock.” John tried again, a bit stronger this time, but without success.    
“Watch out, there’s some tiny pieces by your feet and I wouldn’t want you to get hurt-”   
“Sherlock!”    
He kept his head down and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.    
“Why are you doing this?”   
“How long were you going to keep this from me?”   
“I wasn’t ‘keeping it from you’. I just didn’t tell you, because it wouldn’t have changed anything except cause trouble. And I didn’t want to trouble you.”   
“You didn’t… You didn’t want to trouble me? With your feelings?  _ For me _ ?”

“Is it really so difficult to understand? You know me, John. I’m not one for sentiment, and I didn’t want to ruin… everything. This, uh… us, friends, it’s enough. It’s worth it. Telling you would have messed it all up, you would have been conflicted and I know you, John. You wouldn’t-you won’t be able to pretend you don’t know. I don’t know what gave me up, but now, it’s out in the open. And now, …” 

Sherlock’s breaths were painful, and his shoulders slumped, defeated.    
But John wouldn’t give up. “Now what?”

“Now you know, and things will never be the same.” He stopped talking, the weight of that statement crushing him inside. He’d spent so long hiding, so long refraining from saying things. So long pushing everything back in. And it wasn’t enough, John ended up finding out and now, he was going to lose him. But what could he do? He’d tried his best not to get involved, not to get attached, but it was out of his hands. He couldn’t control his sentiment, no matter how much he wanted to.    
“Sherlock, look at me.” Sherlock jumped slightly, startled. John had moved closer, a knee cautiously placed on the ground in front of him. Sherlock hesitated, knowing his tears would be visible, but at this point, what would they change? His eyes met John’s, but only for a second, before he looked down, ashamed.    
John shook his head sadly, extending his arm towards Sherlock. “Can I…?”   
Sherlock nodded, and he felt John’s thumb brush up on his cheek, wiping a few tears away. How ridiculous this situation had turned out to be. Sherlock’s eyes closed again. He wasn’t equipped to deal with this, particularly feeling so helpless, the situation running out of control so quickly.    
John’s hand lingered, his fingertips brushing Sherlock’s cheekbone and pushing some curls back. Sherlock couldn’t resist and leaned his head into his hand, seeking the gentle touch. His throat hurt and he could taste the salty warmth of his tears on his lips. John’s hand moved tenderly, his touch resting on Sherlock’s lower lip. Sherlock inhaled sharply, stunned. He used all the strength he could muster and glimpsed questioningly at John, but immediately, his eyes opened wide, searching John’s face and gaze. The John that was staring back at him was the same John who’d asked him if he had a boyfriend, that very first night at Angelo’s. His expression was open, affectionate, soft: lovely.    
“I told you, you know me better than anyone.” John’s voice was barely above a whisper, just loud enough to reach Sherlock through the small space that separated them. 

“You told me you were married to your work. You made it quite clear you weren’t interested.” He ran his thumb over Sherlock’s lip, smiling fondly.    
“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I accepted it. I respected the distance you set between us, I appreciated what we had and it was enough. But I couldn’t move on. I never… I never stopped… wanting...”

He looked down at Sherlock’s lips, but went back to his eyes quickly. Sherlock was frozen, unable to breathe or think or answer. The moment stretched between them, the silence heavy, but not uncomfortably: they were suspended in the possibilities, standing on the edge. Once they jumped, once they crossed the line, they would never be able to come back, and they both knew it. But they were already there, weren’t they? It was all said now, revealed, known. 

“But you said-”   
“I know, Sherlock. I’m sorry.”  
“No, no, I’m-”  
  
John shook his head. “Sherlock, it’s… all fine.” He smiled, and for the first time that day, Sherlock returned it, a burden lifted from his chest. It seemed he wouldn’t be losing his Watson after all.    
“John…”   
“Mhm?”   
“There’s broken ceramic everywhere around us.”   
John’s fingers stopped moving, and Sherlock watched as his expression changed from confusion, to realization, and finally, to a giggle. As it always did, John’s laugh caused Sherlock to start chuckling as well, and it quickly became full blown laughter, the two of them hanging onto each other. When it died down a few minutes later, they shared a knowing glance, and Sherlock stated: “So…you love me.”   
John made a fakely confused face, asking “How did you know?”, then smiling brightly. He ran his hand through Sherlock’s curls, then let go of him, bringing his attention back to the ground. “We should clean it all up.”   
Sherlock nodded, and he grabbed the towel he’d tossed aside as John picked up the pieces. Within a couple minutes, there was more water in the kettle and two new cups were waiting. They stood side by side, leaning back against the counter, and John leaned his head against Sherlock’s shoulder, sneaking an arm around his flatmate’s and grabbing his hand. He slipped his fingers between Sherlock’s and they both sighed happily. They enjoyed the quiet peace of their newfound relationship: soon, they would have to discuss it more, set limits and boundaries, address the more complicated stuff, but for now, they had each other, and that was enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing these two fighting about confessing their love. Is there anything more satisfying than one of them shouting "I LOVE YOU!"? because I don't think so and I will keep writing about the hundreds of possible discussions that could lead to that until I die


End file.
